


The Unofficial Official Catboy George AU

by georgescatcafe



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: (not always tho), Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Humor, M/M, One Shot Collection, catboy george au, dogboy dream, dogboy sapnap, idk if u're an og u know what this is so, only ogs remember, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:47:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26421361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/georgescatcafe/pseuds/georgescatcafe
Summary: Everyone's favorite catboy AU has returned.The title and that line is a joke. Anyway, the only consistent thing about these is George's personality and the fact that he's a catboy. Also the OT3 vibes carry through, even if the chapter (one-shot) only has two out of three Dream Team members. This is just a compilation of all the catboy George stuff I've written. Enjoy.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 67
Kudos: 709





	1. Push! Goes the Power Button

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And when George pulls a Robert (IFYKYK) and turns off Dream's computer (because he wants attention)? What then?

George gets it, he really does. Minecraft is fun. He can play it for hours on end, non-stop, heart happy all the while. But then he’ll walk away from it for just as long, snacking, napping, terrorizing Sapnap, even coding  _ for _ Minecraft—doing everything  _ but _ playing the game.

Dream, however, is the total opposite. It’s like he gets his life’s purpose from the game. Sure, he’ll stop to sleep, to eat, get the necessities out of the way, but George knows he’s thinking about it, knows his fingers twitch, pressing at a phantom WASD, phantom left-clicks. It’s fine. It’s not a problem, not usually. Sapnap and George are always there to get him out of it—the game, his head—dragging him out of his room and to the kitchen, where they’ll eat takeout and throw napkins at each other, Sapnap and Dream laughing at the way George’s tail will begin to flick back and forth. George ignores them; he always gets hit the least anyway, hands coming up to bat away the napkins before they hit him every time.

It’s one of these times, Dream nearing hour ten of gameplay, skipping breakfast, ignoring George bringing him a snack in the morning, hoping maybe (but not saying it, of course not) Dream would consider getting out his keychain and using that stupid little laser pointer on it with George, but he didn’t, and then apparently he ignored Sapnap bringing him lunch. Sapnap did, however, get Dream’s keys from him and was willing to point the light at various places in the living room, not even laughing when George’s ears would perk and tail would twitch. (Though George didn’t miss the smirk that tugged at his lips when George tripped over the couch. Whatever. He’s still got blackmail photos of Sapnap from their New Year’s Eve party, so who’s the real winner here?) Now it’s nearing dinnertime, and George is antsy without Dream’s attention.

Not to say he  _ needs _ it or anything; he and Sapnap are just George’s... people. He likes their attention, however hard that is for him to admit at times.

Because of this, he finds himself slipping into Dream’s room, sitting on the bed and watching the back of Dream’s head, gaze eventually dropping to his hands where they rest splayed over keyboard and mouse.

“I can feel you staring,” Dream says.

“Sapnap is getting dinner right now,” George replies.

“Cool.” Dream’s character runs away from a creeper before going back in, sword raised high.

George gives a sigh. Dream’s fingers dance their way across WASD. George gives another sigh. Dream’s fingers do a tap-dance on the space bar.

He can’t help it. His eyes go to the computer, and his fingers drum against his thighs. Dream is still unaware, leaning back as he fights mob after mob. George stands up. Dream shifts his weight. George moves to stand behind him. Dream kills a zombie. George leans against Dream’s desk. Dream eats a porkchop. George’s finger finds its home on the power-button. He presses down on it.

Dream turns on him with wild eyes. “George!” he shouts. “Why would you do that?”

George’s ears flatten, though his tail lashes as he lifts his finger and crosses his arms across his chest. “You’ve been in here all day. And!” he continues when Dream opens his mouth to argue. “You’ve also ignored me... and Sapnap.” He looks away from the other when Dream raises a brow.

“Just come on,” he finally says after a couple seconds have passed. “Sap’s going to be home soon.”

Dream studies him for another second before giving a slight shake of his head and rising from his chair, giving George a scratch behind the ears that he does  _ not _ enjoy (he totally does) before heading out of his room, leaving George to follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/ywywbunny) & [tumblr](https://georgescatcafe.tumblr.com)


	2. Feel the Same

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George is part cat. Sapnap is part dog. Can I make it anymore obvious?

George stares with wide, unblinking eyes at the newcomer from his place on the couch. His tail gets staticky with every pass it makes against the couch, but he can’t help the way it sweeps the cushions with agitation. 

He doesn’t like the new person. An intruder really. Dream had consulted George about it, and George had said okay unthinking, for once, and it’s come to bite him in the tail. When Dream had said their new housemate would be someone like him, George had thought that meant a fellow cat, one that he’d understand and who would understand him. 

(Dream is great, wonderful, really, attentive, kind, and caring—but he doesn’t  _ get _ it. Doesn’t understand George’s behaviors, what his tail means, the position of his ears. Sometimes it’s okay—George hooking his chin over Dream’s shoulder while the other is playing video games at his desk and “accidentally” brushing their necks together, he’d rather die than admit what that means to Dream—but other times, it’s like a real-life lag, George doing something, and Dream only returning that something after a Google search later that day.)

So George had thought that meant there’d be another cat in the house, a friend—maybe a friend that’s even better than Dream. 

But instead it is definitely a dog that stands across from him, his overbearing scent, his floppy ears, his dumb, stupid tail wagging back and forth. George turns up his nose. “This is... interesting,” he says. “Dream, who is this?”

Dream’s eyes are locked on George’s tail, while the dog leans forward, mouth curved in an open-mouthed smile. If he were to give in just the tiniest bit more to animal instincts, George is certain his tongue would flop right out his mouth. George holds back a hiss.

“He’s my friend,” Dream answers. “He’s looking for a place to stay and we have that spare room. Also, he’s like you, so I thought maybe....”

George’s ears are flat to the top of his head. “He’s nothing like me,” George finally hisses. “He’s a  _ dog _ !”

“Wait,” Dream says. “Cats and dogs actually don’t get along?” He blinks, looking between George and his friend. “I thought they just played that up for TV.”

By this point, the intruder—ugh, George’s new  _ housemate _ —has lost his smile, tail’s wag slowing to a steady back and forth. He no longer is leant forward either. Good. George’s ears lift the tiniest bit from the top of his head. “Of course we don’t get along,” George snaps. “He’s a  _ dog _ ! Do you even realize how loud he’s going to be?”

“You’re pretty loud yourself,” Dream replies, and then, “and he’s my friend! I’m not denying him a place to stay just because you’re having a bad day.”

George glares at Dream, teeth parting slightly, a hiss rising in his throat, when a low rumble comes from across the room. George’s eyes go wide as his ears immediately swivel back and the hiss breaks from his throat, slipping through his teeth. “What?” he snaps at the dog. “You haven’t said anything since coming here!”

“Don’t hiss at him!” the newcomer says. “He’s just being nice!”

“I know he’s being nice,” George feels his metaphorical haunches lower when he realizes the other hasn’t actually run at him, just growled (though that’s not much better), and they can’t exactly come to blows in the living room, “but that niceness is probably going to get him killed someday!”

At that, the newcomer turns to Dream, who offers a weak shrug and a smile. “You know he’s right there,” he says.

Their new housemate scoffs. “Maybe.” He turns to George. “Sapnap.”

George bites back a laugh. “Sapnap? What kind of name is Sapnap?”

“I’d rather be named Sapnap than  _ George _ ,” the dog retorts, and George is on his feet, tail free to lash as much as it wants now that there’s room. When the dog gets closer to him, George is filled with bittersweet pleasure at the fact that while Sapnap is taller than him, it’s not by much. When they’re near chest-to-chest, George allows himself to lift onto his toes more, evening out their height.

When he accidentally catches Dream’s gaze, the other raises a brow at this behavior but remains otherwise silent. On his way out the living room, leaving George and Sapnap to settle this sudden feud on their own, George’s tail suddenly curls around his waist for the briefest of seconds in a grateful gesture. When he looks back to Sapnap, the other’s eyes are focused past George, instead looking right at where his tail remains curled in the past shape of Dream.

George’s fists clench as his tail returns to its irritated back-and-forth.

* * *

Over time, they lose the animosity (ha!), becoming something akin to friends, though George still sticks to Dream usually when Sapnap is also in the room, and even when Dream is there, George refuses to lay on the couch on his back. He just can’t. 

But Sapnap isn’t a terrible housemate. He’s not as loud as George thought he’d be—if anything George is the louder of the two, playing video games with the two and shrieking at the smallest things, yelling when the two make fun of the way his tail fluffs up—and eventually his scent mixes with Dream and George’s and it isn’t overbearing, just another smell of the house, and his tail stops being stupid and George finds he can read it pretty well. If he uses it to better push Sapnap’s buttons, well... who can blame him? He’s a terror at heart, and he’s certain Dream and Sapnap know it.

Dream says that makes him the worse housemate. George doesn’t ever respond.

So George likes being a menace and he likes leaving the two to wonder what he’s feeling, but George knows Sapnap isn’t dumb the first time George finds himself looking over to the other and closing his eyes for much longer than a second. When they open once more, he can feel the heat in his cheeks, and a smile tugs at his lips, awkward giggles coming out alongside apologies as his tail curls against his back. 

With Sapnap frozen staring at him, eyes wide, George makes a quick escape, retreating to his room and climbing into bed. When a knock comes a few minutes later, his ears twitch at the sound, but he just crawls deeper under his covers. “Go away!” 

“George,” Sapnap’s voice comes through the door, and George groans, pulling a pillow over his head. “George, it’s okay!”

“It’s not!” George calls back. It is. It’s normal. He supposes, he trusts Sapnap not to attack him ever, he trusts Sapnap with normal things too, the more human side of things. He’d tell Sapnap his secrets, and he’d let Sapnap tell him his. Besides, he stills has his stomach. Still keeps that protected. He’s not completely soft. Not completely gone.

He hears the door click open. Sapnap comes in, and George feels the bed dip as he sits on it. George peeks out from the blankets with wide eyes, and Sapnap sighs before moving to sit instead in his desk-chair. 

“Is it really that bad?” Sapnap asks.

George pulls the blankets over his head.

“No, nope, stop, c’mon,” George feels a hand tug at his ankle through the covers, “we’re doing this, George. C’mon.”

“It’s just weird,” George replies, still under the blankets.

“It’s  _ not _ ,” Sapnap replies. “Besides, Dream and I tell each other we love each other, like,  _ all _ the time. It’s not a big—”

“It doesn’t mean  _ I love you _ ,” George says, finally sitting up, the blankets falling down to his waist.

“Okay,” Sapnap agrees, “maybe not, but... you definitely trust me.”

George grumbles, looking away, but he doesn’t deny it.

“No, hey, that’s a good thing.” Sapnap taps the tip of his index finger against George’s sheets. “We live together; trust is good.”

George gives a laugh at that, though it’s pitchy, awkward and breaking, a laugh that comes only from stress. “How are you so calm right now?”

“Because at the moment, you are looking much more embarrassed than I am,” Sapnap replies, and George scoffs, some of the tension breaking, when he realizes Sapnap actually looks somewhat proud. “Seeing you like that makes me feel a lot, and I mean,  _ a lot _ , better about myself.”

George glares at him. “Thanks, asshole.”

Sapnap smiles back. “So,” he finally continues, “you trust me.”

George once again looks away. “Maybe.”

“Well,” and George’s head snaps over at how suddenly serious Sapnap’s voice has turned, “I trust you too.” He meets the other’s eyes, and George swallows. “I’ve trusted you for awhile now. I was just waiting for you to feel the same.”

* * *

George can’t get the conversation out of his head after that, watching Sapnap while he sits at Dream’s side, tail curled around Dream's back and brushing against his hand, which holds his phone, the screen on and filled with Twitter memes. Sapnap sits across from them on a beanbag that he’d bought himself as a gift, the thing overstuffed but comfortable, George must admit, after a night spent curled up on it a few weeks ago. He’s also got his phone in hand, likely doing the same thing as Dream.

It’s peaceful, calm, and George is content to lean back and—

He freezes mid-stretch, eyes wide as they flit between Dream and Sapnap, who are both unaware of what George was about to do. The fabric of his t-shirt is rough against his stomach, and it is with cherry blossom cheeks that George tugs it down, embarrassed.

But he could’ve finished stretching and stayed like that. He’d be safe.

Sapnap trusts him. Sapnap  _ has _ trusted him.

George’s tail gives an irritated twitch against the back of Dream’s hand, causing the other to look over at him.

“You okay?”

George swallows before nodding, eyes dropping to his lap. “Fine,” he replies. Sapnap’s gaze is tangible. George swallows, remains where he is.

Dream gives a shrug. Sapnap gets back on his phone. George leans forward and crosses his arms over his stomach.

* * *

Just like the stupid blink, the stupid stretch, George’s stupid neck rub is an accident. He does the same thing to Sapnap as he does to Dream, Sapnap on the couch, watching something on his laptop, when George walks in and finds himself ducking down to hook his chin over his shoulder, all under the guise of seeing what he’s looking at. Their necks brush together on the way down. They brush together on the way up.

When George stands straight once more, Sapnap’s hand comes up to press against the place George just rubbed against.

“Did you just—?”

“No,” George cuts him off. “Just wanted to see what you were looking at.”

“George.”

“Sapnap.” George takes a step back from the couch, tail low.

Sapnap turns, hand still on his neck. “You aren’t as slick as you think you are, you know. Literally all I can smell right now is you.”

And then he giggles. And so does George.

“Imagine if—,” George catches his breath, “imagine if Dream can hear us right now.”

“It sounds so weird,” Sapnap agrees, lowering his hand from his neck. “I smell you? That’s so weird!”

They get out a few more laughs before George is once again thinking about just what that means, and his tail, which had apparently been lifting to curl into a happy little hook, lowers once more. “Um,” he says, letting out another laugh, this one much more fake.

Sapnap has gone back to his phone. “It’s not a big deal,” he says. “I’ve seen you do the same with Dream. We’re housemates, I get it.”

George flushes, nodding his head. “Right.” He worries his lower lip before nodding again. “Thanks.”

Sapnap waves a hand. “I’d do the same if you weren’t so prickly.”

George tugs on the other’s ears in response before deciding the rest of the day would be best spent in his room.

* * *

He’s lost. Completely lowered his defenses and is left at the mercy of his housemates. 

Dream is out getting groceries, George having promised to make dinner, and that’s left Sapnap and George to sit on the couch, George with his knees once again to his chest as he scrolls through spaghetti recipes on his phone. He begins to shift his weight when he feels the backs of his knees getting tight, the couch cushions not actually that big when you’re a grown man and also have a tail.

So George flops over then does a little shimmy further across the couch, head managing to rest on Sapnap’s lap, then rolls onto his back, hands coming up to his chest so he can better see what’s on his phone. Meanwhile, Sapnap has gone tense, eyes wide as he stares across the living room at the TV. His gaze drops down to George, who’s none the wiser.

But then George looks up and meets his eyes.

George shrieks as he sits up, ears pricking and tail fluffing. Sapnap leans back just in time, not in the mood to have their foreheads crashing into each other. “Sapnap!” George shouts. “What the hell?”

“What?” Sapnap replies, hands coming up. “I didn’t do anything! You’re the one that laid across me!”

“My—I—”

George’s hands tug his hoodie even further down, the fabric gathering over his stomach.

Sapnap sighs, and George glowers. “It’s fine. I’m glad you feel comfortable enough with me to do that,” he says, voice placating.

George hisses. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

Sapnap’s eyes drop down to George’s stomach, the fabric still bunched up. “Why are you so determined to cover it then?”

George lets go. “I’m cold. If you cover there, you warm up faster.”

Sapnap raises a brow, eyes going back up to George’s. “Uh-huh.”

George nods.

Sapnap studies him for a second before his arms reach up and he arches his back in a stretch. George watches him all the while, eyes locked on where his stupid double-layers ride up, exposing the soft skin of his stomach.

“Sapnap,” he says, “what are you—?” He pauses when he sees the other’s closed his eyes, content to hang off the back of the couch in the stretch. The tip of George’s tail gives the tiniest twitch upward as he reaches out a hesitant hand. When it makes contact with the fabric of Sapnap’s t-shirt, Sapnap’s eyes fly open, locking with George’s. He doesn’t move, though, just waits for George to do something.

George splays his fingers then begins to move them up and down over the other’s stomach. Sapnap’s eyes fall shut again and he returns to hanging his head off the couch. A smile tugs at George’s lips. He keeps up the action for another couple of seconds before returning to his earlier position, hands once again holding his phone on his chest, the recipes page pulled up still.

He feels and hears Sapnap shift before a hand lands in his hair. George tenses. The hand moves to brush against the back of an ear. George bites his lip. Fingers curl to scratch at the back base of the ear. George tries but fails to stop the purr that begins to rumble in his chest. Instead of it stopping, it only seems to grow more thunderous when Sapnap lets out a laugh at the sound, George glaring up at the other as the ear scratches continue.

“I hate you,” George says.

“I feel the exact same way,” Sapnap replies. 

* * *

The problem, George finds, in curling up next to a dog is when said dog’s tail starts wagging while it’s right next to you. George bats it away again and again as it thumps on the mattress. Sapnap meanwhile is sitting up, eyes wide and ears perked as he stares at the door.

“I think the pizza’s here,” he says.

“Duh,” George replies, glaring at the stupid tail that refuses to chill. “The deliveryman’s almost to the door. You just now smelt that?”

“I was kind of preoccupied with other things,” Sapnap says, turning back to George, though his ears stay as angled as they can towards the door.

George finally gives up and just grabs the other’s tail, staring at that instead of Sapnap, who he may or may not have been marking for the past few minutes. “Whatever.”

He glances up at the other when he catches sight of Sapnap’s wide smile. “You know,” he says, “when we first met—”

“You were really mean to me?” Sapnap fills in.

“—I thought that if you were any less in control of yourself, your tongue would just hang out of your mouth like,” and, here, George demonstrates for the quickest second, ignoring the other’s comment. He laughs when the other rolls his eyes.

“Because it’d be so normal for me to be like,” Sapnap imitates the face as George laughs some more.

“That’s why I said  _ less _ .” George shoves the other’s face away when he tries to lean down, tongue definitely pointed and ready to lick George’s cheek. “Stop, that’s so gross, what the hell?”

Sapnap makes another attempt. George pushes him away. He goes in again.

Dream finds them on the try that actually does get Sapnap’s saliva on George’s cheek, eyes wide as he holds two pizza boxes in his hands. “Am I interrupting something?” he asks. “You two completely missed the deliveryman knocking.”

George rolls away from Sapnap (though his tail does maybe curl around Sapnap’s as he does so), sliding off the bed and making his way over to Dream’s side. “No,” he says, eyes wide. “Nothing.” He holds out his hands in a  _ gimme _ gesture. “Here. I’ll hold one.”

Dream squints at him before shaking his head. “It’s fine.” He turns back around, heading out the room and taking the enticing scent of the pizzas with him. George’s ear twitches when he hears Sapnap’s feet hit the ground behind him. He turns around before the other can put a hand on his shoulder. 

“No!” he says, pointing a finger at the dog. “ _ You _ are disgusting. Actually disgusting.” He narrows his eyes. “That is why we don’t get along.”

Sapnap looks unamused. “Maybe you should tell that to your tail, too.”

George freezes before his gaze drops to his tail, where it has most definitely curved around him to once again curl around Sapnap’s. He looks back to the other’s face, hating the smugness on it, and crosses his arms over his chest. “That means nothing.”

Sapnap gives a laugh, herding George out the door. “Whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“I hate you,” George says, even as his stupid chest starts to rumble with a purr the closer Sapnap walks beside him.

“I feel the exact same way.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/ywywbunny) & [tumblr](https://georgescatcafe.tumblr.com)


	3. Thunderous / A Certain Kind of Quiet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> George purrs. Of course Dream and Sapnap love it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original title: Thunderous

They feel it before they hear it. In a rare moment of vulnerability, George has stretched himself across the couch, effectively putting his head in Dream’s lap and his feet in Sapnap’s. His tail is draped over the side of the couch, giving the occasional twitch in response to something that happened in the movie. At first, Dream thinks perhaps his phone is going off, but then he remembers his phone is charging in his room. And then he wonders if perhaps it’s Sapnap’s, and it’s just fallen between the couch cushions, but it only takes a quick glance to the right to see Sapnap is holding his phone in one hand, the other rubbing gentle circles into George’s shins.

_ George. _

Dream looks down at the other and slides the hand that had been stroking the other’s ears down to his shoulder, and then he brings his hand down to cover George’s chest. Bingo. A steady rumble rises beneath his palm, and Dream glances over at Sapnap, willing the other to look over as best he can. When he does, Dream looks between the other’s face and George’s chest and back. Ever so cautiously, Sapnap’s hand starts sliding up, up, up George’s leg.

George sits up.

Dream’s hand flies away from his chest to rest at George’s hip and Sapnap’s hands go to massage George’s ankles.

“What,” George begins, “were you doing?”

Neither Dream nor Sapnap answer. Even the movie has gone quiet. Dream is saddened to note that the purring has gone too. George looks between the two of them.

Sapnap looks to Dream. Dream looks to George, George looks back at Sapnap.

“You were purring,” Dream says.

George’s head whips over to look at him. “So you started...,” Dream and Sapnap glance at each other as George’s skin pinks, “to, uh, feel me—?”

“No,” Sapnap cuts him off, “no. We weren’t feeling you up. Not that I’d be, um, oppo—”

He seals his lips shut at George’s look. Dream takes a breath. “I wanted to feel you purr.  _ Not _ the other thing.”

George blinks. He looks to Sapnap, who nods quickly. Slowly, George lowers himself back down, and one of Dream’s hands automatically go to his ears, petting them softly. “Why?” he asks.

“It’s cute,” Dream replies. Sapnap nods again.

George’s skin only flushes more. “You didn’t have to do it like  _ that _ ,” he says, locking eyes with Sapnap, who gives him an embarrassed smile. “And... I don’t... you shouldn’t... it’s just weird.”

“How is it weird?” Dream asks. “It’s nice.”

“Yeah,” Sapnap agrees. “It’s, like,  _ really _ calming, dude.”

George studies him for a second before sighing. “I guess. But still. Don’t do that.”

* * *

Not long after, the three of them are once again watching the movie, though Sapnap keeps glancing down at George and Dream feels like electricity is running through his veins. George seems to be the only one actually invested in whatever is on the screen. Dream tries his best to act like he cares, too, fingers a steady up-and-down on George’s ears.

And then the purring starts up again. Sapnap glances at George and doesn’t look away. Dream’s breath hitches, but he keeps on with his petting, not wanting to be the one to stop George’s purrs. But then George takes his free hand. And he sticks out his other hand to Sapnap, eyes locked on the screen even as Sapnap gives him his hand. George brings them to his chest, just holding them there.

Dream feels his cheeks heat as he looks over to Sapnap, who stares back with wide eyes. George remains silent between them, the vibrations continuing even as he keeps their hands under his on his chest. Eventually, his hand drops, but he doesn’t tell them to move, and they remain that way even as the movie ends and George’s purring begins to fade away, him drifting off to sleep, Dream and Sapnap content to stay where they are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/ywywbunny) & [tumblr](https://georgescatcafe.tumblr.com)


	4. Subtle (or Not)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dogboy Dream with an enthusiastic tail. An affectionate George doesn't help.

It’s equal parts annoying and endearing. George knows what he’s doing, knows the effect he has on Dream, but Dream also knows that this isn’t some ploy, some plot George has to drive Dream insane. It’s just how he is. ( _ Equal _ turns into  _ mostly _ . It’s a little annoying. It’s mostly endearing.)

George isn’t affectionate. Not really. Cats aren’t really affectionate. George isn’t really affectionate. Dream loves him anyway. Loves him for moments like these.

They’re on the couch together, some forgotten movie playing on the screen. (Dream’s seen it a thousand times. The plot’s okay. George got bored five minutes in and got on his phone.) They started out on opposite ends of the couch. Dream is still on his end of the couch. George now lays mostly on top of him, phone still in hand, eyes still on phone, completely ignoring Dream. 

He doesn’t mind. George’s hair smells like the popcorn they ate and against his chest Dream feels the rumbles of the purr starting up in George’s. It’s all very calming. Definitely more attractive than the movie. Dream tucks his nose into George’s hair. George doesn’t even move, doesn’t give any indication he’s aware of Dream underneath him. Dream’s head goes a little hazy with George’s scent. A vague discomfort is suddenly noticed in his backside. Dream flushes.

In his indulgence, his tail has started up, and now it’s flying a mile a minute, creating a rapid fire beat against the couch, against the base of his back. He hopes George hasn’t noticed. He’s not embarrassed or ashamed or anything; he just hopes it’s not enough of an irritant to make George get up and leave. He slips further down on the couch, and fear grips his heart when George shifts too, but all the other does is readjust, ending up even more in Dream’s lap.

He still doesn’t acknowledge him, just keeps looking at whatever it is he’s looking at on his phone, but it’s not like Dream minds. To him, this is enough. Any time spent close to George like this is enough.

The movie ends without fanfare, but neither move. Dream watches George’s face. His lashes cast shadows on his cheeks as the TV screen illuminates his features in a soft blue. And that’s when Dream knows he’s a goner. Sure, it may make George move, get up and leave him, curl up in bed and not come out till late the next morning, but the urge has itched under his skin since Dream had gotten home from the store and saw George in his pajama pants and a T-shirt a size too big.

Dream brings his lips to the other’s forehead. George doesn’t move. Dream’s lips trail lower, over the bridge of his nose, the tip of it—he hears the other take a breath—and then George has a hand on the back of his head, tugging at the short hair there, pulling Dream down by the tiniest inch and into a warm kiss.

When they separate, George’s eyes are still closed, and Dream can’t help but press their lips together one more time. When he pulls away, George’s eyes open, glittering. His hand is warm from where it’s moved to rest at the nape of Dream’s neck. Dream feels George’s tail tighten from where it’s wrapped itself around his wrist. And then George’s hand and gaze drop to his lap, where he’s set down his phone. He picks it up. His tail slips from its place, settling back over the side of the couch. Dream takes all this as the dismissal that it is, leaning back on the couch once more. Except....

“Love you,” he says, not entirely expecting a reply, and not really needing one either. He just wants the other to hear it. He just wants to say it.

But then—

“You too,” George replies. He clears his throat. Dream watches as his tongue darts out, wetting his lips. “I love you too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/ywywbunny) & [tumblr](https://georgescatcafe.tumblr.com)


	5. Catch Me if You Can

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dream wakes up to George running around in the middle of the night—silly time.

In new company, George is quiet, politeness his number one quality, personality near gone, found only in the glimmer in his gaze, the curl of his lips. In not so new company, George is quite loud, whining and bratty, demanding and proud; it’s never unbearable, but eventually you start to wonder if the voice in your head is George or if he just hasn’t shut up. But it’s never unbearable. Just one more thing to love about him. Half the time, the ruckus he creates isn’t even words, just noises. He’ll purr, he’ll scream, he’ll hum, he’ll push your keys off the counter, metal scraping against granite then clanging on the tile floor.

So it comes as a surprise when Dream wakes one night to find it only him and Sapnap in bed, though he distinctly remembers there being a body between the two of them. He sits up, eyes darting around the darkened room, though George remains out of sight. Dream looks at the doors, the entrance and the bathroom, but no light comes in from underneath either, just more darkness. It’s hard to believe George could slip out of bed and leave the apartment completely silent, unnoticed, and to put it simply, Dream _doesn’t_ believe it.

“Sapnap,” he whispers, hand reaching out to grab the other’s shoulder. “Sapnap,” he repeats, giving said shoulder a shake when he still gets no response.

Finally, Sapnap makes a small noise, sheets rustling around his legs as he stretches and looks to Dream. “What? Okay?”

Dream allows himself a smile at the half-mumbled words but is quick to give his concern. “George is missing.”

“Bathroom,” Sapnap says, immediately going to shuffle back down under the covers from where he had been starting to sit up.

“Nope,” Dream says. He nods his head to the bathroom door. “Peeing with the lights off?”

“He’s Shithead,” Sapnap replies, once more under the covers. “He’s got to pee with the lights off.”

“That video is, like, ten years old, shut up.” Dream gives a soft laugh before turning to get out of bed. “I’m going to check the kitch—”

Footsteps. Loud and fast, running past the door.

Sapnap sits up as Dream looks at him, eyes wide with alarm. Sapnap puts a finger to his lips, and Dream nods, turning back to the door as another round of footsteps go by.

Dream leans back, fingers curled tight around the edge of the mattress to catch himself from going back too far. Sapnap leans towards him and Dream puts his lips against the other’s ear. “Is that George?” he asks, the words hardly more than a rumble in his throat.

“I don’t think George can move that fast,” Sapnap replies.

Dream wants to argue, on the off chance it is George, but Sapnap does have a point. Still…. “George can run,” Dream says. “When he wants.”

“Whatever.” There’s the quiet sound of a drawer opening, and then Sapnap is pressing a flashlight into Dream’s hand. “In case you need to clock someone or whatever.”

Dream nods, then rises to go over to the door. When another minute passes and there’s no footsteps, he opens the door and goes into the hallway.

Nothing.

He decides to keep his original plan of going to the kitchen. He’s passing the living room when there’s a blur in the corner of his eye and more footsteps. He pivots, flicking on the flashlight, and the noisemaker is illuminated by harsh, white light.

“George?” Dream asks, the flashlight now a spotlight on the other, who glares against the brightness, ears back and tail lashing this way and that. “Sorry,” Dream is quick to say, lowering the flashlight. “What are you doing?”

George doesn’t say anything, only watches him, eyes glowing whenever Dream accidentally raises the flashlight to high, before he gives a near full-body shake and runs at him.

Let it be known that Dream did _not_ clock George, despite Sapnap's future insistence (and jokes, though George is adamant that they aren't funny) that he did. Instead, the thunk Sapnap hears is the flashlight hitting the ground as Dream lifts his arms to catch George when he jumps at him and into his arms.

“Shit, you’re heavy,” Dream wheezes out as he rights the two of them, George clinging on tight, panting into his ear. “You okay?” he asks. “You’re breathing a little heavy there.”

George just ducks his head, burying it into the space between Dream’s neck and shoulder. His tail is still fairly irritated, and Dream moves his hand down George’s back in order to give it a gentle stroke. 

“Have you done this before tonight?” Dream asks, walking them over to the couch so he can plop down on it, not even close to graceful but uncaring now that he’s got the full weight of George off of him.

George nods his head.

“And neither Sapnap or me have heard it until now?”

Again, George nods. “Didn’t want to wake you guys up.”

“Does this only happen at night?”

Another nod.

Dream sighs. “So you just wait until night?”

“It happens at night, too,” George says. “Just… it can happen in the day, also.”

“What is _it_ exactly anyway?” Dream asks.

“Just this…,” George huffs as he tries to think of a word. Dream tightens his hold on him. “It’s, like, energy. Just… a burst of energy that I don’t really know what to do with.”

“So if it happens in the day, you just let it keep building until you end up here.”

George nods and Dream closes his eyes, leaning his head back over the top of the couch.

“Okay,” he says. “Would it help if you got rid of this energy outside? I can’t imagine our downstairs neighbors enjoy this much.”

George huffs a quiet laugh. “Sorry to them.”

“Sorry to them,” Dream agrees, nodding. “But really, should trips to the park where you can just… run become a normal thing?”

George gives a noncommittal shrug. Dream nods again.

“We’ll make it a thing,” he decides.

George nods.

“Dream? You ali—shit!” There’s a loud thunk before Dream and George turn and see Sapnap sprawled out on the floor. “I think I tripped on the fucking flashlight.” He brings his hands up to cover his face before sitting up. “I’m… I’m going to stay here for a bit. Glad to see you aren’t dead.” He reaches his foot to keep the offending flashlight. “I heard a noise but no screaming, but then the no screaming went on too long so I came out here to see what’s going on.”

“If I had been a murderer,” George starts, smart, “then Dream would be dead by now, and his death would be on you.”

“ _George_ ,” Dream admonishes, though George only shrugs.

“It’s the truth.”

“You are _so-o-o_ annoying,” Sapnap replies. “I hate you.”

“I’m not the one who’d let my boyfriend be murdered, but you know,” George tilts his chin up at the other before turning back to Dream to offer him a warm smile. Dream rolls his eyes but does lean forward to press his lips to the tip of the other’s nose. When he pulls back, he sees George’s tail has become a contented curl.

“So the footsteps were George?” Sapnap asks. “I thought he can’t run.”

“Excuse me?” George immediately turns back to the other. “I am an _excellent_ runner. You wish you could run as well as me.”

“You don’t even play sports,” Sapnap says. “Like you could run.”

“I play _tennis_!” George argues, and Dream can feel the heat beginning to radiate off his cheeks, righteous anger.

“And your thighs look very nice when your shorts ride up,” Sapnap nods solemnly, “but that doesn’t mean you can run.”

George immediately whips around to look at Dream, eyes wide, mouth the slightest bit open, silently asking if he can even believe the other.

Dream gives a guilty smile. “You do have very nice thighs.”

George makes an indignant noise as Sapnap brings a hand up to rub at his chin thoughtfully. “Running shorts are, like, really short, right? Maybe George _should_ be a runner….”

“That’s objectification,” George says. “ _This_ is objectification. You are objectifying me.”

“I’m appreciating your finer qualities,” Sapnap replies. 

“I thought that was supposed to be my intelligence.”

Sapnap shakes his head. “No, no, no. You’re the beauty, Dream’s the brains, and I’m the brawn.”

“So you’re stupid, that’s what you’re saying,” George says, immediately finding a weak point in Sapnap’s statement.

“Dream and I are simultaneously brains and brawn,” Sapnap replies, immediately amending said weak point.

“And I’m just the beauty, then?” George looks unamused. “Ha-fucking-ha.” He glowers for a second then says, “Have you ever considered how I got nice thighs? It’s because I run.”

“Bullshit.”

Dream tightens his arms around George’s waist as George shakes his head. “Try me.”

“You want that?” Sapnap asks. “You want your ass handed back to you? Fine. Race me.”

“That’s what I proposed,” George snaps. “We’re going to race.”

“Fine,” Sapnap says.

“Fine,” George agrees.

“You, me, Dream as commentator, Avery Park, Friday morning at ten.”

“He might win,” Dream says to Sapnap. “I think you’re just giving him what he wants.”

“Good,” Sapnap retorts, still glaring at George. “He has a nice smile.”

Dream sighs as George just huffs. “Yeah? Well, you have nice eyes.”

“Eyes that’ll be watching you lose,” Sapnap says.

“You fucking wish!”

Dream gives another sigh before standing, holding tight to George who gives a quiet shriek and wraps his legs around the other’s waist, arms squeezing around the other’s shoulders. “You two are so annoying,” he says. “Can we please just go back to sleep? George, are you still restless?”

George shakes his head.

Dream looks to Sapnap, who pushes himself off the ground, eyes widening at Dream’s words.

“Like… is it a cat thing?” he asks, making his way over to the pair to better look at George, who gives him a disapproving look, even as his tail moves to curl around Sapnap’s wrist.

“I think so,” Dream replies.

“It is,” George confirms.

“Oh,” Sapnap says. “You’ve got the zoomies.”

“I’m sorry?” Even Dream turns to look at the other.

“Yeah,” Sapnap says. “I don’t know what you guys call them, but when cats get all excited and start running around, they’re called the _zoomies_.”

“I don’t think that’s an official term,” George replies.

Dream just shakes his head, taking George back to their bedroom and leaving Sapnap to follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [twitter](https://twitter.com/ywywbunny) & [tumblr](https://georgescatcafe.tumblr.com)


End file.
